


The Littlest Viking, or, How Iceland Wrapped the Nordics Around His Finger

by KikiTwinTai2



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anko Family (Hetalia), Gen, Nordics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-09-27 06:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20403151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KikiTwinTai2/pseuds/KikiTwinTai2
Summary: The times Iceland met each member of his family, and how he charmed each one of them.





	The Littlest Viking, or, How Iceland Wrapped the Nordics Around His Finger

**Author's Note:**

> *reads every single baby!ice fic there is on this website* there will never be enough. enjoy.

Norway

Norway stared at the child in front of him. He had not expected to find anyone on this journey, let alone a child. Did this mean there were already settlers on this island? If so, they must be well hidden. He hadn’t seen any evidence of humans living here so far, although his men had reported an abandoned cabin to the southwest. Nothing to suggest there were any living humans nearby, and certainly not those with a family.

Where, then, did this child come from?

He took a step closer. The child, for his part, regarded the man walking towards him blankly. His face was unclear from this distance, but he showed no fear. As the nation walked closer, his features became clearer. Norway couldn’t hold back a faint gasp when he saw the child in detail.

Pale skin, glowing faintly white with the reflection from the snow. Pale hair, a shade or two lighter than the Norwegian’s own, almost silver. Bright amethyst eyes, staring at him dispassionately, a mirror of the emotionless expression Denmark often chided him for.

That was not what caught his interest, however. It was the child’s _presence._ The boy, or so Norway assumed, appeared to be only a year or two old, and was clothed only in a thin white gown. Despite the chill, even in summer, he showed no sign of feeling the cold or the bitter wind that was surely going straight through his clothing. His little feet were bare, leaving barely any mark on the ground. Despite all this, he kept staring at the man, regarding him with a gaze far too intelligent for a child.

All of this added up to one thing. The child was not ordinary. He was, without a doubt, the personification of this land, whatever it may be.

Norway approached the child cautiously. Turning his head to the side a little, he ordered his troll to stand back, not to scare the child. He spoke in a whisper, unsure if the child would be able to perceive the magical creature. Stepping closer, he knelt to the ground slowly, showing him to be unarmed.

“What is your name?” he asked quietly.

The child didn’t answer. Norway cursed softly. _Of course, he won’t understand Norwegian!_

“Iceland.”

Caught off guard, Norway blinked in surprise. “I’m sorry?”

“Iceland. I am Iceland,” the child replied.

Norway nodded. “hej, Iceland. I am Norway. I am from the south. Would you like to come with me?”

The child thought for a moment. He nodded.

Norway smiled gently and held out a hand. Island walked over and took it, allowing himself to be picked up and held in the man’s arms. Norway wrapped him gently in his cloak, sheltering the child, and turned to make his way back to his men.

“Wait,” the child commanded. Norway stopped and looked down at him.

Iceland whistled. After a moment, a small bird came flapping up to them. It hovered around the man, almost challengingly, then settled on his shoulder.

“Mr Puffin.” Island didn’t offer any other explanation, but settled into Norway’s arms as if satisfied.

Norway didn’t comment. He had no way of knowing how long the child had been on his own, so it was only natural that he had bonded with one of his animals. Besides, a bird hardly compared to the trolls and fairies that _he _called friends.

“You have no other possessions?” he inquired.

Iceland shook his head.

“How old are you?”

No reply. _Well, that isn’t surprising,_ Norway thought.

They made their way back to the shore, where the men were waiting. Norway shook off their questions, telling his men to set sail as soon as possible. They hurried to obey his orders, used by now to his vagaries and emotionless attitude.

In the weeks it took to return to the Norwegian’s lands, he learnt little more about the child. It seemed as though Iceland knew next to nothing about who he was, or where he had come from. Norway had no problem with this, however, as none of them could remember their births and their existence remained a mystery to all of them. He tried to tell the child as much as possible about the land he was travelling to, and what to expect when they got there.

Island absorbed all of this with the same calm face. His expression turned faintly disdainful at Norway’s recount of Denmark and his ebullient attitude, which made Norway quirk a smile.

“We seem to be very similar, little one. I think you must be my little brother,” he said one night.

Island frowned, staring up at the man. “Brother?” he inquired.

Norway nodded. “It means we are the same. Would you like that?”

The child thought about it. “I suppose,” he replied. As if the conversation was over, he snuggled down in his arms and fell asleep.

Norway sat staring out at the ocean, a faint smile on his face. He looked down at the child, already feeling the strong, protective bond of love winding its way around his heart. He knew this nation, although just a child, would soon become his whole world. He would protect this child with his life, his soul if need be, until the time he could stand strong and proud on his own. For now, he could enjoy the feeling of having a child, a little brother, for him and Denmark to raise as their own. He could only hope that the Dane would think the same. 

* * *

Denmark

He needn’t have worried. Denmark was the first to see the ship appear, and called out joyfully to his men.

“They’re here! Stand ready for mooring!”

He stood impatiently while the ship neared, waiting until he saw the small boat descend and the men pull the longship into shore.

Eventually, the gangplank was lowered, and Norway appeared at the front of the ship. He made his way carefully down to the shore, not looking at the Dane. There appeared to be something in his arms, a package of some kind. Perhaps he had found some sort of treasure on his journey?

As he approached, however, Denmark saw that it was not a package, after all. A small child stared out from the Norwegian’s careful hold, surveying his surroundings with the same blank gaze as Norway himself. Denmark’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Norge? What is that?”

Norway’s eyebrows raised in faint amusement. “Is that how you greet me?” he asked.

Denmark laughed. “Sorry, Norge. But really, why do you have a child? Where did you find him? Is he a country? What’s his name? How old is he?”

Norway regarded the barrage of questions with a calm expression. When the Dane finally let up for breath, he held Island out a little, letting him see the tall blond.

“This is Iceland. He is the land to the north. Iceland, this is Denmark, our King.”

The child stared at him solemnly. Norway handed him over carefully, allowing the Dane to hold him.

Iceland stiffened for a moment at the unfamiliar arms, blinking at the height difference. Then, after a moment, he looked up at the tall man. His little face furrowed in confusion. Raising a tiny hand, he reached up to the Dane’s hair.

Denmark laughed and lifted the child higher. Iceland stuck his hands in the thick spikes, trying to pat them down. The Dane laughed, holding Iceland away from him to stare into the child’s face. Cold amethyst met laughing blue sky, each taking the measure of the other.

After a moment, Denmark laughed again and drew the child close to him.

“Oh, I like this one, Norge! Is he ours?”

Norway smiled slightly. “He’s my little brother. So yes, he’s ours.”

Denmark grinned. “Your brother? I can see it. Look, you have the same face!”

He nuzzled the child’s cheeks, making Iceland frown. “Don’t worry, little one, I’ll teach you to smile!”

The child did not look convinced, but stared down at Norway. The two shared a glance, then looked up towards the cliff, where the outline of a castle could be seen.

“See that, Iceland? That’s our home. You’ll love it, I promise.”

He settled in quickly, navigating the winding corridors and huge halls with confident ease. During the wild storms he would come running to their shared rooms, snuggling close with the two until he fell back asleep, cradled in either Denmark or Norway’s comforting hold. 

* * *

Sweden

Sweden sat at his desk, staring at the papers in front of him. He had been working for hours, and now the words were starting to blur in the candlelight. He set his quill down and sat back for a moment, closing his eyes.

Suddenly, he heard a faint sound. Looking up, he saw a child standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

It was Iceland. Sweden was not familiar with the young country, having only met him a handful of times and always with Norway or Denmark. He looked at the doorway, expecting one or the other to follow the child and carry him back to his bed.

Neither one appeared, however. The child stood there, watching him impassively. After a moment, he walked up to the tall man and tugged on his shirt, staring up at him commandingly. Seeing that the man clearly had no idea what to do, he raised his little arms, expression turning imperious.

Well, that was clear enough, at least. Wordlessly, Sweden lifted him and set him on his lap. Iceland snuggled down on the man’s lap, putting his small arms around Sweden’s neck and kissing his cheek.

_He must be mistaking me for the Dane,_ he thought, a little sadly. His stern expression usually scared most children away, and even many adults. Most treated him with respectful, scared glances, hurrying to do his bidding and get out of him way as soon as possible.

He sat stock still, amazed that the child showed no fear of him. To be fair, he had rarely seen the child show any emotion, his face as impassive as Norway, who he called older brother. A rush of happiness went through him at the fact that the child had come to _him_. Probably mistakenly, surely, but Sweden was not about to let this moment pass.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps outside the room. He looked up in shock to see Norway enter the room, a look of faint exasperation on his usually calm face.

“Have you seen- oh,” he started, seeing Iceland curled up on the Swede, asleep.

Sweden made as if to move, sure that Norway was here to take the child back.

“Don’t you dare,” the Norwegian ordered. Sweden looked confused.

“You don’t want him back?” he asked quietly.

Norway glanced at him, amused for some reason. “Iceland sleeps where he likes. When he wants affection, he goes to whoever is near. He must have thought I or Dan was in here. You’re similar enough, he was probably just confused. But don’t you dare wake him.”

The Swede’s face fell imperceptibly. He knew it was unlikely, yet he had still hoped that perhaps the child had come to him for a reason.

“brøder?”

The little voice broke the silence. Stirred by the voices, Iceland had woken up, stirring and rubbing his eyes.

“I’m here, lillebrør.”

Iceland sat up in the Swede’s lap, staring at his brother over the taller man’s shoulder.

Norway walked over to the desk. “Working a little late, aren’t you Sverige?”

Sweden glanced up at him. “Got to be done,” he replied in his deep voice.

“You should get some rest. I’ll take Ice back to bed. I’m sure he’s kept you from your work,” Norway said calmly.

“No.”

They both looked at the child in shock. Iceland clung to Sweden, his face stubborn. “I want to stay with Sve,” he said.

Norway raised an eyebrow. “He won’t interrupt you?” he asked.

Sweden shook his head. “I’m almost done” he replied. “I’ll take him to bed when I finish.”

“Alright. If you’re sure.” The Norwegian leant down and pressed a kiss to the child’s hair. “Good night, lillebrør.”

He nodded to Sweden, who returned the gesture, then turned and walked out of the room.

Sweden stared at his retreating back, amazed. Then, tentatively, he drew an arm around the child, who snuggled into him. Leaning forward slightly, he tried to focus on the papers in front of him. Soon, however, he felt his eyes closing, drowsy with the warmth of the room and the faint candlelight. Later, Denmark would enter the room and find the two of them asleep in the chair, and draw a soft blanket over them, vowing not to reveal the side of the tall, stoic Swede that he had seen.

* * *

Finland

Finland stood in the cold, staring up at the night sky. It was full of the familiar stars that he knew and loved, but the land he was in was so, so different. In his homeland he had been surrounded by birds and reindeer, the thick forests with tall trees sheltering him from the cold, the sound of his footsteps in the deep snow the only thing to break the silence.

Here, everything was different. The man who had brought him here, Sverige he called himself, was far too intimidating, his stern, glaring face terrifying the Finn. Part of him knew that the tall man didn’t mean to look so scary, but Finland couldn’t help but shiver whenever he found himself in contact with him. Which was far too often.

Then there were the other two. One, tall, blond and loud, always happy and laughing except when he flew into one of his rages. The other was shorter, slim and pale with a calm expression, like a mountain pool, full of secrets. _Dan-mark _and _Nor-ge_.

The words were unfamiliar on his tongue. They all seemed to understand one another, their languages blending together when they spoke. He felt like an outsider with his words, so different to theirs, even the letters they used unfamiliar compared to his own. He had, by necessity, begun the slow process of learning to fathom out the meaning of their words, but for the moment, he may as well be mute, thrust into a world he didn’t know and couldn’t understand.

He heard the sound of footsteps and whirled round, scared. He peered into the darkness, trying to discern the figure coming towards him.

It was a child. Pale hair and skin glowed in the faint moonlight, his eyes shining with the cold. Finland relaxed slightly, still a little nervous. Although the child appeared to be barely a span of years old, he could sense that he was much older, somehow.

“Finland. Sve's friend," he stated, pointing at him.

Finland caught the sounds the boy made, and tried to puzzle out their meaning. He tried to copy the sounds he'd heard the others use, wrapping his tongue around the strange words.

“Ice-land?” he said tentatively, looking at the boy hopefully. He loved children, though it was highly unlikely that he would ever find a nation for himself the way that the other two had with this little boy.

The boy nodded, pointing to his chest. “Iceland. You’re Finland.” He pointed to the man.

Finland copied the boy, pointing to himself.

“Yes. Fin-land,” he said, burying the disappointment in his chest as he said it. It sounded strange. It wasn’t the name he called himself, it wasn’t _him_, not yet. But he would have to get used to it, he supposed.

He wasn’t sure which of the tongues the boy was using, but he tried to use the little words he knew to talk to him.

“You, here. Why?”

The boy quirked a smile at him. He pointed to the stars. “The stars are pretty.”

Finland followed the boy’s gaze to the sky. He didn’t know what the boy had said, but he nodded in agreement anyway.

The boy turned to frown at him, as though expecting an answer.

Finland had no idea how to reply. Suddenly, he felt a surge of irrational anger, and couldn’t stop a tirade of angry words.

“What do you want me to say?" he asked the boy, voice wobbling.

"It isn’t my fault that tall brute carried me off here! I didn’t ask to leave my home and get brought here to live with you. You all talk in that strange tongue and it doesn’t make any sense. That man calls me ‘wife’ and I don’t know what it means but I’m pretty sure it isn’t good because the other tall one laughs when he says it. I don’t like any of you and I just want to go home!”

For all his anger, Iceland seemed wholly unaffected, simply staring at him impassively. Finland glared at him, his face red with anger, although it was hidden in the darkness.

After a moment, the boy smiled, then, surprisingly, he broke into laughter.

"You can speak!" he stated happily.

Finland couldn't help staring at the boy, surprised.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have burst out like that. You're only a child." 

He knelt down in the snow before the boy, trying to remember anything that he could say to him. Eventually, he gave up, and simply held out a hand for the boy to take.

Iceland seemed unconcerned with being unable to understand a word of the other's language, and accepted the hand that was offered to him. He looked up with a small smile on his tiny face. He snuggled in to the man's side, burying his hands in the thick fur of his coat.

"Finland," he stated happily, satisfied. 

Finland had no idea what was going on, but he felt like he had been accepted, somehow. 

The two stood like that for a while longer, staring up at the stars. Eventually, Norway came looking for his little brother, finding the two of them pointing at things and exchanging words. The Finn’s face was bright, smiling happily for the first time Norway had seen. He called out to them.

“Is! Finland! Come on in, it’s far too late.”

Iceland turned at the sound of his brother’s voice. “Nor. I showed Fin the stars. They're pretty.”

Norway raised an eyebrow at his little brother. “How nice. Now get inside, its far past your bedtime.”

Iceland pouted, but went inside dutifully.

Norway gave a small smile to the Finn, trying to appear polite. He knew Sweden’s ‘wife’ was still unsure about his new surroundings. He also knew what it was like to be carried off by a tall, annoying blond, he reflected.

Perhaps they could be friends, he thought. He wasn't much prone to smiling, but he made an effort for the man in front of him.

It seemed to work. Finland beamed at him, walking across to where Norway stood.

“Nor-ge. Nor-way?” he asked.

Norway nodded. “Yes. Now, inside.” He motioned to the light spilling out from the doorway.

Finland followed him back inside the castle, now far more hopeful about the future. It may take a while, but he was sure that someday, they would all be one happy family. 

* * *

All – present day

Iceland lounged on his bed, idly playing on his phone. It had been a lazy few weeks, coming up to Christmas. As usual, they had all decided to congregate at one of their houses. This year, it was Den’s turn to host. This meant noise, laughter, fighting and lots of flags.

He heard a yell from downstairs, and frowned. A _lot_ of fighting. He shoved his headphones over his ears, trying to block out the sound.

It didn’t work. The noise only grew louder, as though coming nearer. He braced himself for what was surely to come.

As he feared, the door was flung open a moment later, revealing Denmark standing with a box in his hands.

“Ice! Ice! Ice! Come on, we gotta go downstairs!”

Iceland simply stared at him, then turned back to his phone. “Go away,” he muttered.

Denmark pouted. “But Iceeeee,” he whined. “We gotta decorate the tree! You know the Swede won’t do it right. And Finny just goes along with whatever he says. You gotta help me out!”

Iceland looked over at him. “Go get Nor then. He’s your _lover_, go annoy him.”

“He already turned me down. Besides, he’s your brother.”

He perked up. “Oh, I know! If you go and ask him, I know he’ll say yes! Please, Ice?” he begged.

The teen ignored him. “No. And he’s not my brother.”

“Awww. Nor won’t like that. NOOOOR!” he yelled.

Norway appeared a moment later, clearly exasperated. “What are you yelling about, stupid Dane?” he asked.

Denmark brightened. “Ice won’t help me decorate the tree. And he says you aren’t his brother. Come on, Nor, you have to help. Otherwise the stupid Swede and his wife will do it, and they’ll do it _all wrong_.”

Norway looked at him calmly. He sighed.

Pushing past the Dane, he leaned over the teen. Taking his headphones off, he whispered to Iceland, “that’s not what you said when I found you. You were happy to be my lillebrør then. Why not now, lillebrør?”

Iceland glared at him. “Because that was centuries ago, you idiot. I’m not a child anymore.”

Norway smirked slightly. “That could be changed.”

He had an evil glint in his eye.

The teen nation shot up. “You wouldn’t dare!” he yelled.

Norway’s smirk deepened.

“Dane, go to the cellar. You should find all my old spell books there. I’m sure I can work something out.”

“NO! Denmark, don’t you even think about it!”

Iceland withdrew to the end of the bed, pressing himself against the window and looking out as if judging the distance to the ground.

Denmark grinned. “But you were so cute as a kid! I remember the first time I held you, you were fascinated by my hair. You kept trying to flatten it down. Then I carried you all around the castle. I thought your eyes would pop out, you were staring so much!”

Iceland flushed deep red. “That was more than a thousand years ago. I’m not a child!” he repeated. Suddenly, he ran forward, catching the two off guard and dashing past them.

He ran down the stairs hurriedly. Turning sharply, he ran into the lounge and threw himself down on the couch, panting heavily from the sudden exertion.

Annoyed with the noise, Sweden came out from where he had been making coffee in the kitchen. Seeing Iceland lying with his face in the cushions, he went over in concern.

“Ice? You alright?” he asked.

Iceland looked up, shocked, then relaxed when he saw it was Sweden. At that moment, Norway and Denmark came into the room, eyes sweeping around the room for him. Iceland instinctively grabbed the tall man, hiding behind him.

Sweden looked down at the teen, confused. “Ice?”

Iceland pointed at the other two. “Don’t let them anywhere near me," he begged.

“Oh?” Sweden levelled his glare on them. "What'r you doing?”

Denmark glared back. “Nothing.”

Norway stared back at the Swede. “I have a spell for making Is a child again. wouldn’t you like that, Sve? I seem to remember you quite liked him as a child. Didn’t I find you asleep on Sve’s lap once, Is?” he asked.

Iceland stared at his brother in horror. He turned his gaze up to the Swede, who seemed traitorously deep in thought.

“Mm. I thought he’d confused me for _you_’ – he nodded to Denmark – ‘but you told me not to wake him.” He looked down at Iceland. “You didn’t seem to mind. You were a cute kid.”

Iceland’s glare deepened, and he flushed again. “I hate you all,” he muttered.

Finland chose that moment to walk back in from outside. Seeing Iceland hiding behind his husband, he took the situation in.

“Iceland, why are you hiding behind Sve? What have you two done now?” he asked.

Denmark pouted again. “Why do you always assume it’s me?” he whined.

“Because Iceland wouldn’t be hiding otherwise. And Sve wouldn’t be so angry,” he said calmly.

“I am going to turn Is into a child again,” Norway said, equally calmly.

“A child? Why? He’s already a child,” Finland said.

“Fin!”

“What?” he turned to the teen. “Sorry, Ice, but you are. You’re the youngest one here, so that makes you the child.”

Iceland glared. “What about the kids?” he challenged.

Finland smiled sweetly. “They are at mister England’s for Christmas this year. If they were here, they would be the youngest. They aren’t, so you are.”

Iceland folded his arms and glared at them all, his face red. “I hate you all. I'm over a thousand years old!"

“Act like it, then," Norway stated calmly.

“ARGH! How can I, with you lot breathing down my neck every second I'm here!" the not-a-teenager yelled. "I have my own parliament, my own laws, I’m not ruled by you anymore! I’m independent! Why won’t you let me be an adult! It’s all your fault I don’t’ grow! You coddle me too much!”

The four adults regarded him with various expressions.

“He’s so cute,” Denmark noted.

“His rage was always cute, even as a child,” Norway said.

“You aren't helping," Sweden muttered, bored already.

“SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! I GET IT, YOU’RE ALL STUPID ADULTS WITH NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAN MAKE FUN OF ME!”

Saying that, Iceland jumped off the couch and stormed off, ripping open the front door and slamming it again without bothering to grab his jacket.

The four stared at each other, shocked at his outburst. Denmark was the first to break the silence.

“Did we go too far?” he asked quietly.

“What do you think, stupid Dane?” Norway replied. He sounded agitated for once.

“I warned you," Sweden said, frowning in concern.

“I have an idea!” Finland said brightly. The others turned to him hopefully.

“This all started because Denmark wanted Ice to help decorate the tree, yes?”

The man in question rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess?"

Finland nodded, smiling. “All right. How about this. Denmark, you make a batch of pastries, the ones he likes best. Norway, you help him. Sve, I know you’ve been working on something for him, so why don’t you go to the shed and try to finish it?”

They all nodded. “What about you?”

Finland smiled brightly. “It’s Christmas, isn’t it?”

They nodded, unsure.

“I’m Finland!”

Three looks of confusion.

“Santa!” he cried.

Norway looked at him, faintly amused. “He's a little old to believe in Santa Claus, Fin,” he said.

“So?” he replied. “He’ll still want presents.”

“Fair enough. Dan, go and put the oven on.”

“Huh? Why me?” he asked.

“You were the one who upset him first. Go.”

Denmark looked puzzled. “But Nor, you were the one who wanted to turn him into a child again.”

“GO.” Norway pushed his back, making him stumble forward.

“Ok, ok. Let me put this down then.” Denmark walked forwards and placed the decorations box on the floor, then followed Norway into the kitchen.

Finland watched them go, then turned to his husband. “Well?”

Sweden walked over, kissed him gently on the cheek, then walked out to the door.

“You have the best ideas, Fin.”

“I know,” he said simply. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” He turned and walked out to his workshop.

“Right.” Finland surveyed the room, then turned and walked out. taking his coat, he put it on and grabbed Iceland’s, then opened the door. Shutting it carefully behind him, he set off into the forest to find the youngest member of the family.

He found Iceland in his usual spot, sitting on a large tree root a little way into the forest. Wordlessly, Finland held out the jacket. Iceland stared ahead for a moment, pretending to ignore him, then eventually reached out and took it. His face was red, either from the cold or embarrassment. They stood there in silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Iceland muttered.

Finland smiled gently. “No need. We said some hurtful things, and we shouldn’t have.”

Iceland looked at him, surprised. “Uh, thanks, I guess. You didn't say anything, though. It's all Nor and Den's fault.” He fell silent.

“He wouldn’t really use a spell on me, would he?” he asked almost inaudibly.

“If he tries, I will snipe him. I promise,” Finland said brightly.

Iceland blinked in shock. “Really?”

“Well, probably not. Not _fatally_, at least. But enough to make him reconsider.”

“Uh, ok?”

“Of course, I’d do the same no matter who tried it. Especially if he tried to hurt Sve. No one is allowed to hurt Sve.” Finland’s voice was soft, but his eyes had a strange gleam.

Recognising the danger, Iceland cleared his throat.

“Was there a reason you came out here, other than your maternal instincts?” he asked.

“No, not really. Well yes. Want to go shopping?”

Iceland stared at him. “What?”

“Shopping. I told the others to stay out of our way, but I think shopping will be better. My treat. I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

“Uh, ok. Why?”

He smiled widely. “Because I’m Santa!” he cried.

“Right. Are you sure you’re older than me?” Iceland asked.

Finland laughed. “Go and get in the car. Hurry, it’s cold out here.”

Iceland obeyed, still confused.

They returned a few hours later, laden with boxes and presents. Iceland’s anger had abated enough to suggest presents for the others as well, and now the car was full of gifts for the tree.

They entered the house quietly, shaking the snow from their boots and coats. Iceland was going to call out to the house, but Finland shushed him, motioning to carry the boxes to the lounge instead.

They placed everything on the couches, then set about decorating the tree. Just as the last branch was decorated, Sweden entered, having finished up in his workshed.

“Ah, Sve. Just in time. The angel, please, askling.”

Sweden didn’t question the order, reaching into the box and taking the decoration out. He placed it carefully on the top of the tree, then stood back to admire it.

“You did a good job,” he said.

Iceland looked up quickly. Sweden stared down, and they shared a look, knowing the argument was forgotten.

Hearing the noise, Denmark and Norway entered from the kitchen.

“See, Norge? I told you they were back. Hey Ice, Fin. We made pastries!”

“That was supposed to be a secret, stupid Dane.” Norway pushed past him, walking straight over to Iceland. The teen stood up suddenly, not meeting his brother’s stare.

“You’re back, Ice.” Norway ignored the teen’s silence and pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry, lillebrør.” He stroked his pale hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Forgive me?”

Iceland stiffened in his brother’s hold, then relaxed. His arms rose reluctantly until he was hugging him back. “I suppose,” he said.

They stood there for a moment, the others hanging back.

After a moment, Denmark yelled out “group hug!” and ran forward.

He threw his arms around the two. They shot him twin glares of annoyance, which only made him laugh.

“Sve, Fin, you too!” he reached out and grabbed them both, drawing them in. They all collapsed in a group hug. Sweden reluctantly put an arm around Denmark, the other holding Finland to him tightly.

From his position in the centre, Iceland smiled slightly. It seemed he _was_ still the centre of attention, after all.


End file.
